


Blood of the Faithful

by PhantomsDaughter13



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomsDaughter13/pseuds/PhantomsDaughter13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After making a dire mistake that results in the near-fatal injury of his Storm Guardian, Tsuna must come to terms with the danger of the mafia and decide on the real motive behind his place in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood of the Faithful

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most self-indulgent thing I have ever written. The plot is shaky, the timing of everything isn't as fluid as I like to have in my stories, but I'm still pretty proud of it. It accomplishes what I want it to do, and as a shameless fangirl, sometimes you just have to go with the flow. All mistakes are mine- I'll re-edit it again when I have the chance.
> 
> I'm not sure why I took so long to upload this here. I published it on ffn.net January 2011.

There had been so much blood. 

Tsuna could smell it long after they left the battle and returned to the base. It lingered on his skin after he washed it off, and as painfully hot water fell upon his face, he could still feel its slickness between his fingers. 

It had been a horrible fight. There shouldn’t have been an altercation with the Genovesse Family in the first place. It had been routine, and they were a rather weak Famaglia in the first place with no previous animosity towards the Vongola. Or so they had thought.

The Genovesse Family had been made up of nothing but rats, apparently, who were willing to do anything to damage the Vongola to better themselves by any means possible. 

Tsuna hadn’t been as prepared as he should have been, and he greatly regretted his lack of foresight. He hadn’t listened to his Intuition when he’d first set foot on the property, either. This entire fiasco had been a result of his weakness and stupidity.

Gokudera and Yamamoto were the only escorts that he had brought with him, and they had faced the brunt of the violence. The fact that his Family was the most important thing to him wasn’t as much of a secret as Tsuna had hoped

Fortunately, Gokudera and Yamamoto were far superior in regards to fighting prowess than their opponents, but they had been taken by surprise. The Genovesse were known for doing battle close range with daggers and various poisons, which would have been easily defended and overturned by the Storm and Rain Guardians had they been more prepared. Instead, they had both taken a fairly great amount of damage before recovering and surging forward with the power they should have been able to use in the first place, taking everyone out and leaving no survivors. 

Gokudera had been stabbed on the right side of his chest, the dagger missing his heart by either pure luck or poor skill on the part of the other Mafioso. He had been standing behind Tsuna’s right shoulder, as faithful and steadfast as always, when one of the Genovesse caught him from behind. Tsuna could still hear the strangled gasp that had been wrenched from Gokudera’s throat from the unexpected assault – it had sent shivers of anguish and rage down his spine, and his Dying Will Flame had burst into life on his forehead.

Yamamoto killed the assailant in an instant, slicing his throat quickly with his freshly unsheathed katana before turning to face the onslaught that had come to life.  
It had been complete hell in that room; there was so much death and pain and anger. There had been no time for Tsuna to even think about what he was doing before he could feel the heat of the Dying Will in his hands mixing with the blood from his enemies. It was sweltering, oppressive, the weight pressing heavily onto his chest and making him unable to breathe. But breath hadn’t mattered –all that mattered was that they all make it out alive, and the only way to do that was to take the life of everyone else. 

So they did, with skill and power and efficiency far superior to the other Famiglia, and they managed to make it out of the Genovesse estate before Tsuna had really been able to understand what had happened.

Yamamoto had received a number of painful gashes on his right side and one rather deep stab wound in his left thigh. Besides the wound to his chest, Gokudera had collected a number of poisoned slashes that were not lethal, but still excruciatingly painful. Tsuna’s wounds were mere bruises and cuts in comparison, besides the pain in his chest caused from the suffering of his friends. The rest of his body was still numb with shock. 

The drive back had been worse for Tsuna than the actual battle. It had harder than he ever imagined watching his Guardians writhing in pain while he could do nothing. 

Yamamoto had curled on his injured side, breathing shallowly and clutching his left leg with white knuckles. His face was pressed against the fabric of the car seat, his shoulders shaking every so often with faint tremors of shock. His black hair was matted with sweat against the nape of his neck and his left cheek.

Gokudera had his right hand curled against the wound still pulsing blood from his chest, his already pale skin clammy and his left hand shaking against his leg. His suit jacket had turned from charcoal grey to black with the amount of blood he had lost and was still losing. His pale forehead was pressed against the tinted glass of the window, his eyes screwed shut and his breathing sporadic through his bared and gritted teeth. 

Tsuna had given up the seats to his friends and taken to kneeling in the space between the backseat and the divider, unable to sit in the front seat while his companions were bleeding and dying behind him. 

A stifled moan from Gokudera caused his panicking heart to leap into his throat, and he reached out his own trembling hand to hold onto Gokudera’s free one. Gokudera stiffed at the contact at first, but after cracking one pained green eye and seeing his boss’ distraught face, he grasped onto him tightly before withdrawing again into his agony. Tsuna added his second hand as well, fingers wrapped around the Italian’s wrist and feeling his erratic pulse against his skin.   
He felt tears burning his eyes. He had come so far in being a boss in the Mafia, but now he felt more like the frightened boy he had been during that very first altercation with Mukuro – completely helpless and unable to do anything besides watch those he cared about risking their lives for his sake. They were nineteen years old now. That hadn’t been too long ago. 

A sob built up in his throat, and he swallowed heavily against it. He had no right. He wasn’t the one suffering. Instead, he tightened his grip on Gokudera’s hand.   
“You need to go faster!” he called to the driver over his shoulder in a strained voice, not even listening to the response he received. All he could focus on was the bluish hue that Gokudera’s lips had adopted and the heaving of his chest as he fruitlessly attempted to take in the oxygen he so desperately needed. 

Tsuna’s left hand unwrapped from the Storm Guardian’s wrist and reached forward to pull at the other’s tie, loosening it and pulling it from around his neck. He also unbuttoned the top three buttons from his blood-soaked shirt and pulled the saturated fabric open in an attempt to help him breathe easier. It didn’t help, and he felt something knot tightly in his chest. 

By the time they had returned to headquarters, Tsuna had been counting Gokudera’s breaths religiously, matching his own with them and clutching onto Gokudera’s shivering hand painfully. In the other hand he held onto Gokudera’s tie like a vice, as if the fabric was the only thing keeping its owner from dying. The driver must have called ahead because they were met in the driveway in front of the manor by a team of Vongola doctors, who rushed the car the instant they arrived and maneuvered Yamamoto and Gokudera carefully out of the car and onto stretchers. 

Tsuna wobbled out of the car on unsteady legs, watching with wide eyes as his injured Guardians were whisked away for treatment. Reborn’s heavy hand on his shoulder was the only thing that shook him from his stupor. 

He had paced outside the medical room, covered with blood, sweat, and who knows what else until he had been told that both Gokudera and Yamamoto would be fine. The blade and whatever poison had been on it had punctured Gokudera’s lung, but the doctors had been able to save him and he was stable. Yamamoto’s leg hadn’t been injured anywhere vital, and he would be perfectly fine after some rest and rehabilitation. Tsuna had almost fainted from relief, and he didn’t remember how he’d made it back to his quarters. 

He had come back to himself while sitting on the floor of his shower, his back against the slippery tile and scathingly hot water sluicing over his skin. All the blood had been washed from his hands, but he could still feel the inconsistent throbs of Gokudera’s weakening pulse against his fingertips. 

He buried his face in his hands, and sobbed wretchedly until his chest burned for air and his abdominal muscles hurt. He felt like he was fifteen again, once more Dame-Tsuna who couldn’t do anything right and only caused problems. The pain from his incompetence was crippling, wrapping its hands around his throat, choking him, tearing at his skin with jagged claws. 

The worst thing wasn’t just that he had failed – it was what he almost lost. Thankfully Yamamoto’s wound looked worse than it was, but Gokudera had almost died, staccato breaths and waning pulse coming far too close to stopping. 

What would he have done if he’d lost him? How would he have been able to move on with the overwhelming guilt? 

A sob caught in his throat and he coughed, his breath wheezing between his cries. 

No, he couldn’t think that way. Gokudera was hurt, but he would be okay. He was strong, and he would come back even stronger from this. His fiery Storm Guardian was anything but weak. 

Tsuna sat up, gasping for breath as all the pain he had been withholding was washed away and swirled down the drain. 

There would be more battles like this to come. He needed to become stronger. He needed to be a stronger support for his Guardians – the lives they lived were dangerous ones, and the all-too-real possibility of death lurked at every corner. Injuries would be commonplace, be they life threatening or minor. Their youth would not protect them; nothing could, in this lifestyle. 

He stood and turned off the water, opening the fogged shower door and grabbing a towel. 

He was exhausted. His very bones were aching with fatigue. Gracelessly he made his way over to his bed and sank down face-first with only his boxers on, and he was unconscious before he could even move under the blankets; sleep came upon him so heavily that even his nightmares couldn’t wake him. 

~

The first few days were rough. Yamamoto never did well when he was kept on bed rest, but thankfully he was able to be moved into a wheelchair and out of the medical ward after a short amount of time. Gokudera, on the other hand, was not going anywhere anytime soon. 

He was propped up in his hospital bed, an oxygen mask placed over his nose and mouth to help him breathe weakly as his battered lung attempted to piece itself together again. The blood loss had left the Italian rather weak, and he was in and out of consciousness for the first few days. Once he woke, the apprehension about his condition went down a few notches, and then there was nothing to do but wait. 

Reborn had kept Tsuna rather busy with reports and ordering cleanup of the entire ordeal. The situation had become rather messy, and to keep up the Vongola reputation Tsuna had to do immediate damage control. It was frustrating, but the busy work gave his mind something to do, which managed to help keep the guilt at bay.  
By the time Yamamoto had reestablished himself in the household, Tsuna had finished his work, and Gokudera was now alone in his recovery. He had visited him briefly in the beginning, but he hadn’t worried about him being alone while Yamamoto had been recovering with him. With all his work done, there was nothing keeping him from going to sit next to his bed.

Well, except one thing. 

He was scared out of his mind.

He was scared to really look at Gokudera, to take in his battered state, listen to his wheezing breaths and see his pale and bruised skin. His nights had become filled with nightmares about Gokudera, all different scenarios of his demise being caused more and more violently by Tsuna’s shortcomings. 

Tsuna was scared of seeing his so valiant friend coming back from the very brink of death. 

After seeing the pain and the destruction from their horrific future with Byakuran, Tsuna had rather foolishly believed that he could keep his Family from ever suffering that much again. Seeing Gokudera now would prove to him even more than having him dying in his arms that he had failed. 

However, he knew that he couldn’t allow his fear to keep him from his friend while he was in need. Gokudera would most likely beat himself up as much as Tsuna was about his supposed “failure to the Tenth” as soon as he had enough strength to do so. Tsuna knew how dedicated he was to his position at Tsuna’s side. Vongola Tenth needed to put aside his own fears and man up – this wasn’t about him. 

Before he even realized it, he was standing before the white doors leading to the medical ward. His knees were shaking where he stood, and he wondered if they would buckle in his next step. 

No.

He shook his head slightly. 

This was just Gokudera. 

He needed Tsuna, and Tsuna needed him. There was no need for fear, and there was no need for panic. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pushing the open button before allowing himself to think. 

Someone had managed to dim the extraordinarily garish florescent lights to something more tolerable. Tsuna pressed the button to shut the doors behind him before he turned to the curtain’s surrounding Gokudera’s bed. The doors closed with a soft swoosh, and the sound spurred him forward to gently pull aside the white fabric.   
Gokudera’s breathing was even, if shallow, his chest rising and falling with the smallest amount of movement possible. The mask covered most of his face, his thin breaths barely steaming up the plastic. Both of his arms were on top of his blanket, his left stuck with an IV. His silver hair was clean and fanned against the fabric. Bianchi must have been here earlier. 

Tsuna pulled the curtain back in place and slowly sat on the seat next to the bed. Swallowing heavily, he reached forward to put a hand on Gokudera’s nearest one, cupping the cold flesh with his own and stroking it softly with his thumb. His heart began to stutter at the contact, but he pushed down the feeling. 

A tiny groan alerted the Vongola Decimo to his Guardian’s awakening, and he stilled his hand.

“Gokudera-kun?” he asked quietly, his voice calmer than he imagined it would be. 

The bomber shifted his head in the direction of his voice, the slightest sliver of green visible through bruised and swollen eyelids. 

“Gokudera-kun?” Tsuna asked again, softer, his hand unconsciously tightening as he did so. 

Gokudera’s eyes opened wider at this, and though they were half-lidded, they were lucid and vivid. 

“Juu…dai…mai,” he whispered, the broken sound almost unheard against the whoosh of the oxygen. 

Tsuna felt heat pricking at the corners of his eyes, but he ignored it. 

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing thickly and forcing a watery smile. He relished the fact that the skin of the slender hand he was holding had warmed at his touch, and he stroked the inside of the other’s wrist. “Yeah, it’s me.” 

The corners of Gokudera’s eyes creased in a smile, and Tsuna felt his resolve snap. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his cheeks once they began, nor the frantic racing of his heart. 

The smile in those green eyes quickly fled, the pale forehead furrowing in a frown. 

“No!” Tsuna said, too loudly, but he couldn’t help it. “No, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He wasn’t sure which of them he was trying to convince more. His shoulders were shaking as he tried to keep himself from falling completely out of control. 

“I was just…” he whispered thickly, eyes taking in the other’s pained face. “I was just so scared,” he breathed, feeling the weight of this admission fall from his shoulders. 

The hand beneath his twitched in movement, and Tsuna loosened his grip. Gokudera slowly turned his hand around so that his palm was facing up, fingers twining with Tsuna’s weakly.

Tsuna bowed his head and lifted their twined hands to rest against his forehead, his free hand joining in and cradling Gokudera’s tenderly. He sniffed a few times before gaining the courage to look up, losing himself in those eyes that looked at him with such devotion and love. He placed a gentle kiss on one of Gokudera’s knuckles and set their hands back onto the soft blanket, rubbing his cheeks roughly against the fabric on his shoulders to remove the traces of his emotional outburst. 

Gokudera’s thumb rubbed once, a mere twitch of a movement, against the side of his hand, and Tsuna couldn’t help but smile a real, albeit rather small, smile.

“You should get some rest,” the brunet said, clearing his throat and feeling rather euphoric without his guilt weighing so heavily on him. “It’s the only way you’ll get better.” 

He sat there long after Gokudera had fallen back into his healing slumber, the warmth of the hand between both of his own reminding him that the Italian was still there, still alive, as long as he kept holding on.

~

As Gokudera healed, Tsuna felt himself becoming obsessed with the other’s well being. He felt that Gokudera would slip away the instant his mind turned to other things, and he couldn’t seem to shake the fear from his heart. He knew he was overreacting, knew that he was being overprotective, but he couldn’t bring himself to chance his behavior. 

Gokudera was rather understanding about the whole thing, allowing Tsuna to put his fears temporarily to rest by clutching his hand and feeling the heat of his skin.   
When Gokudera moved past the critical stage and was able to be moved back to his room, Reborn took Tsuna by the hair and kicked him back into gear as Vongola X again. He had been patient enough while Tsuna had his little breakdown, but there was work to be done, and it was Tsuna’s job, not his. 

Weeks passed, and Tsuna made as much time as he could to see Gokudera between his duties and spending time with the other Guardians, and soon the silver-haired Mafioso was back onto his feet, not quite as strong, but well on the mend. 

While it was obvious that Gokudera had moved on from his ordeal, Tsuna hadn’t quite been able to come to terms with what had happened. He wanted more than anything to keep Gokudera from training for fear that he wasn’t strong enough yet, to go back to that moment of complete comfort the two had shared the first time he went to sit at his bedside. 

Something had changed between them in that moment at the Genovesse base; something that Tsuna wasn’t quite ready to put a name to yet. Every time he looked at Gokudera he felt like he was something ephemeral, something that he would lose in a heartbeat if he wasn’t careful. 

He could see the hurt in the other’s face at his obvious distress. He didn’t notice at first, but it had become apparent in the few weeks after the bomber returned to normal drills that he wasn’t doing a good enough job of covering up his uneasiness. 

It was on a warm, clear night that Tsuna found himself unable to sleep. He sat at his rather large desk, an indistinguishable number of papers spread before him as he attempted to bore himself into fatigue. A gentle knock on his door threw his mind off kilter for a moment, and he blinked before he realized that he was supposed to answer.

“Come in,” he called, glancing at the clock on his wall.

“Juudaimai,” came a soft voice, the door being pushed open. Gokudera had changed out of his suit and was wearing a pair of black sweat pants and a grey tee shirt. He was frowning as he shut the door behind him, walking forward and crossing his arms.

“Gokudera-kun,” Tsuna said softly, setting down his pen. “What are you still doing up?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Gokudera said, looking stern. “You’ve been working too hard. I’ve noticed that you’ve been staying up too late working lately, and as your Right-Hand-Man I insist that you put a stop to it. You need your sleep, Juudaimai. This paperwork can wait until tomorrow.” 

Tsuna felt a fond smile grace his face briefly before it faded. 

“You’re right,” he said softly, looking down at the papers littered in front of him and finding himself completely unable to read the writing on them. “I’m not getting anything done as it is.” He pushed back his chair and stood, reaching out a hand to turn off the lamp on his desk. 

The light coming from the hallway highlighted Gokudera’s pale hair once the room was encased in darkness, and Tsuna eyes couldn’t help but linger for a moment too long before he moved past him. They continued in silence to Tsuna’s quarters, and Tsuna gave a quiet goodnight to his companion before moving quickly forward to the door. He was stopped by warm hand on his shoulder, and he froze beneath the soft touch.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

Tsuna glanced over his shoulder, taken aback by how mature Gokudera’s face looked in the half-light, his jaw appearing more chiseled and his eyes more shadowed.   
“I don’t know what you mean,” he lied poorly, feeling something heavy and hot welling in his chest painfully. 

Gokudera tilted his head sideways a little, his long hair falling and resting against the side of his face. Tsuna wanted to reach out and move it behind his ear, but managed to stop himself.

“I think you do,” Gokudera said solemnly. 

“Gokudera-kun,” Tsuna began.

“No, Juudaimai, I think I know what this is about,” Gokudera said quickly, his voice dropping as he pulled his hand from Tsuna’s shoulder, flexing it uncertainly before dropping it onto he doorknob. He pulled open the door and stepped inside, Tsuna following apprehensively. 

Gokudera shut the door behind them, taking a deep breath before turning once more to face him.

“Will you let me help you?” he asked, voice full of quiet desperation. 

Tsuna shook his head weakly.

“Gokudera-kun, you don’t need to help me.” 

Gokudera’s hands shot out and grasped onto both of Tsuna’s arms, holding him still as he held Tsuna’s gaze captive.

“I think I do.” 

Tsuna didn’t know what to say in response to this, feeling his face flushing slightly at the intensity of Gokudera’s scrutinizing gaze. Suddenly, those green eyes softened.

“I’m here, Juudaimai. I’m not going anywhere. You never need to worry about that.” 

Tsuna felt as if all the air had been knocked from his lungs. He swayed slightly in Gokudera’s grasp, trying to comprehend the turmoil that had just taken sway of his mind. 

“G-Gokudera-kun –”

“I know you’re afraid,” Gokudera said, moving a step closing and moving his hands up to cup Tsuna’s face. “But I’ll always be here, with you. I’ll always be your Right-Hand-Man.”

“You don’t know that,” Tsuna said helplessly. “There is no way any of us can know that.” 

A warm hand moved to rest against his cheek, and Tsuna shuddered and couldn’t help but close his eyes at the overwhelming wave of anguish that crashed over him.   
“You’re right. I don’t know that. Not for certain.” He felt Gokudera’s forehead come to rest against his, warm breath ghosting against his skin. “But I will fight till the death to stay at your side.” 

Tsuna’s eyes opened wide at this, and he looked up into Gokudera’s. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he whispered. His heart was beating far too loud in his ears.

“I know,” Gokudera whispered against his ear, and suddenly there was a soft pressure against his lips. 

This wasn’t how Tsuna had imagined it would be. He hadn’t wanted this moment to be filled with fears and worries about the future and their prospective deaths, but that was his life now. It was, at this point, primarily comprised of fears and worries and death.

But maybe he wanted to be selfish and have something that was neither. Maybe he wanted something more.

He increased the pressure, his hands resting against Gokudera’s sides tentatively. They stayed like that a moment before Gokudera broke away, ending the kiss far too quickly, but he ducked his head and hot breath rushed against Tsuna’s ear.

“No matter what happens in the future, I’m here, now, with you. Let me show you how alive I really am, Juudaimai. Let me prove it to you.”

That was it. It was too much to ignore, and Tsuna couldn’t deny himself any longer. 

Gokudera removed his hands from Tsuna’s face and pulled him through to his bedroom, shutting the door and locking it behind him in so swift a motion that Tsuna only heard the lock click before he was pushed back against the bed. 

He found himself flat on his back on the soft comforter, watching with wide eyes as Gokudera moved to lean over him, kneeling astride his hips and gently lacing his hands in Tsuna’s wild hair. 

He pressed his mouth to Tsuna’s again, all warmth and gentleness and devotion. Tsuna could smell the sweetness of Gokudera’s hair where it rested on his face, a mixture of musk, shampoo, and a scent that was so purely Gokudera that he quickly found himself becoming addicted. 

The kiss slowly intensified, tongues twisting and twining together in a cadence of their own making. Tsuna could taste the cinnamon of Gokudera’s toothpaste, and he deepened the kiss for more. 

His hands slid back to Gokudera’s sides, slipping under the thin shirt and resting against his bare skin of his waist. The wild heat of the bomber’s skin was nothing in comparison to the heat of Gokudera’s mouth, though Tsuna’s hands were tingling at the contact. 

Tsuna’s chest was constricting, the lack of oxygen causing his very veins to burn and cry for air, and he reluctantly broke the kiss and gasped wildly. Gokudera was panting heavily over him, and Tsuna felt a sudden, sharp worry shoot through his chest at the sound of it, his roiling hormones knocked out of the way.

“Are you okay, Gokudera-kun?” Never mind that Gokudera had been training in harsher conditions than any kiss could produce, but seeing the Italian gasping for air seemed to knock his arousal and common sense aside. 

Gokudera’s eyes softened, and he released one hand from Tsuna’s hair and ran it down the side of his face. He bent to place a chaste kiss against the side of the smaller male’s jaw. 

“I’m right here,” he said earnestly, answering his question with different words that held more meaning. “Let me prove it.” 

Slender pianist’s fingers moved to unbutton his shirt, swiftly divulging the skin underneath for his own exploration. Hands as hot as fire moved firmly down the lines of his torso as a warm mouth kissed down to the hollow of his throat, tongue laving at the dip and causing shivers of arousal to shoot down his spine. Tsuna’s own trembling hands held tightly onto Gokudera’s hips, fingers probably digging into the skin painfully, but he couldn’t loosen his grip. 

Gokudera was too real, too human, and as hot and tangible as he was against his bare skin, he couldn’t let go of the fear that he would soon realize this was all just a hallucination brought on from his own despair –

But then butterfly kisses were soon being placed slowly and strategically down the center of his chest and stomach, each brief touch of lips causing his muscles to jump at the white lighting that shot through them. The hands stroking his sides moved down to his slacks, deftly undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. Tsuna lifted as hips as he allowed Gokudera to divest him of his modesty, moving to slip the open shirt from his shoulders as well. 

Gokudera stared down at him with an expression of such reverence that Tsuna felt his breath hitch. Green eyes locked with his, and Tsuna shivered when he realized that arousal had caused Gokudera’s eyes to darken to a shade that was almost black. 

“You too,” Tsuna whispered hoarsely, swallowing heavily as the full reality of the situation hit him. 

Gokudera leaned back on his haunches, smoothly pulling down his sweatpants to reveal that he had been wearing nothing underneath. He pulled the tee shirt over his head in one swift motion, and then they were both bare before the other, nothing hidden and everything offered. 

Tsuna sat up suddenly, Gokudera catching himself with one arm on Tsuna’s shoulder at the other’s abrupt movement. The Vongola Tenth’s eyes were locked on the fiery scar that painted Gokudera’s chest, and suddenly he saw himself back in the car, watching Gokudera dying with his forehead pressed against the glass of the window. 

The Storm Guardian immediately sensed the other’s alarm, and gently took one of Tsuna’s hands and pressed it to the blemished flesh. 

Tsuna closed his eyes tightly in grief. He could feel Gokudera’s heart beating firmly under his palm, and he focused on it, using it as the force to push back his panic.  
He felt another hand cradling the back of his head, and he found his nose pressed to the junction of Gokudera’s neck and shoulder, breath unsteady and eyes blurry. 

Thump

Thump

Thump

He was here, he was real, he wasn’t fading. This was his Gokudera, giving himself to Tsuna completely as he always did without question. This was his Right-Hand-Man, his Guardian of the Storm, and one of his very best friends. Something tight in his chest snapped painfully, and he gasped in discomfort before relief washed over him like a soothing balm. 

He could feel the hands in his hair and on his hand acutely, the solid pressure of Gokudera’s torso, and he knew that everything was okay. He pulled back and looked at the scar once more, running a gentle finger over the ragged edges before looking back into the other’s face. He raised both hands, running them reverently through hair as silver as starlight, and kissed the bomber firmly, without any doubt. 

He was able to lose himself in Gokudera’s heat, his desire, his devotion, and his boundless vitality. The sound of the other’s breath in his ear, the rhythm of his pulse, the strength of his muscles and the gentleness of his ministrations entwined them in something Tsuna had never imagined in any of his secret fantasies. Locked together, bodies merged as one, Tsuna no longer questioned the other. His devotion to Tsuna had been almost indestructible before, and as he breached Tsuna and stilled to allow the smaller boy to adjust, they crossed the boundary to make their bond so much more. He looked down at Tsuna with such awe that Tsuna couldn’t help but feel his heart burn with adoration, his entire body alight with electricity and his limbs shaking with the intensity of the moment. 

It was so raw, this act of giving and taking so completely. It was so human and tangible that Tsuna couldn’t help but feel himself heal a little bit more with each motion, each kiss and stroke of fingers. 

When they finally came undone, Tsuna had nothing left. There were spots before his glassy eyes, and his limbs were tingling and limp against the bed. Gokudera lay next to him, his heavy gasping not causing the distress it did earlier for Tsuna, but instead causing him great comfort. 

The brunette rolled slowly onto his side, reaching out a hand to push a lock of hair from Gokudera’s face. 

As unforgiving as the Mafia was, Tsuna was reminded while looking at the man next to him of what he had fought for from the very beginning. Those he loved deserved to have a chance at life, as well as those around him who couldn’t protect themselves. He had the power to change the Mafia and make that possible. 

He was Sawada Tsunayoshi, the Tenth Generation Boss of the Vongola Family. 

Listening to the soft breaths of his companion, feeling the ridges of the scar that almost took his life and the steadily beating heart, he wouldn’t allow himself to lose sight of what was important again.

He had too much he had to protect.


End file.
